Danse Macabre

The ghost of a wind raises last fall’s leaves
And they wheel as if alive.
But, brittle and thin, lie still again
As we, all trapped in that fifties dance
That hopeless groping, sweet and slow
The night too young to decently go,
But too dead wasted to jive.


Youth is brief and age is long
And then you're a long time gone.

Waxworks wane in the guttering air
And long shadows heel in time.
Old hearts may flame
To remembered refrain
But it’s only reflections on opposite walls
All just new pins in old voodoo dolls
Just ritual pantomime.


Youth is brief and age is long
And then you're a long time gone.

-- Stephen K. Roney